


Till death do us part

by Probs_Not_Okay



Series: Voltron zombie AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Blood and Gore, Do I even have the balls?, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Lets do this!, M/M, Slow Burn, Will end with a sad AND happy ending, Yaoi, klance, smut?, we shall see, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Probs_Not_Okay/pseuds/Probs_Not_Okay
Summary: A Voltron zombie AU. Where we follow the lives of a group of adventure hungry teens on their quest for survival and adventure, in a zombie ridden world or course. Outside of the protection of the V.O.L.T.R.O.N Organizations sect's walls, what will these teens get out of their "field trips"... simple satisfaction? Unspeakable horrors? Or will they find something else? Something more, that not one of them ever dreamed they'd find?





	1. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, probs_Not_Okay here! And welcome to my first (and probably not last) Volron fic! 
> 
> I've had this idea for a Zombie Apocalypse AU in my head for awhile now, and finally decided to, you know, give it a shot and try writing the damn thing. 
> 
> I actually wanted to wait and write out a few more chapters before I submitted this one, but I was to excited to get this one out!
> 
> So here we are, with Chapter one of the "Till death do us part" series!
> 
> This is sorta like a test chapter to see if anyone is even interested in it. Which I hope you are!
> 
> I had a blast writing this! 
> 
> And I hope you enjoy!

It’s been this way for as long as Lance could remember, ever since he was born into this fuck up of a world, where the sky was forever tainted grey and blocked out the majority of the sun, the ever present smell of decay that hung heavy in the air, the fact that there is no wind (not even a breeze), and well, Them of course, but hey, it was home.

Lance was never really that disturbed with the fact that the world had ended (more so with the fact that all the good looking people, in his opinion, were already turned into mindless flesh eating zombies) but since when has he ever really worried about anything else? Hardly ever, since he knew that his family was living a relatively safe life, well, as safe as one in a world filled with zombies can be of course, with countless other survivors, under the protection of the so called V.O.L.T.R.O.N organization. 

Under the organizations protection, large sects were established throughout the safe areas, where those who were lucky enough to still be alive were protected behind enormous concrete walls, that were guarded 24 hours, Seven days a week, with the odd exception of a bathroom break here and there. 

The survivors were not permitted to step foot out of those walls under any means necessary due to the fear of someone getting bit and spreading the virus. A few cases such as that have occurred in the past, and large populations and sects were lost as a result. This lead to even stricter rules being put into place, all in the hope of keeping the remaining human population alive. 

Lance not being one for staying put, or following the rules, found himself in a small group of, freedom fighters, so to speak. At least that’s what he liked to believe them to be, fighting for humanities survival against the ever flesh hungry dead. It had a nice ring to it. 

 

There were four of them;

 

Shiro, the natural born leader and the dad of the group, as Lance liked to refer to him as, and the one who has the most experience when dealing with Them, he was part of an early extermination crew a few years back that had been sent on a mission that went bad, Lance didn’t know the details, and he had been thought dead until till a few years ago when Lance found him half starved; 

Hunk, Lance’s best friend, who had always been by his side since the two of them were small, Hunk and his family were transported to Lance’s sect when theirs was infiltrated by the virus, he and his family were one of the few that actually made it out without getting changed, Lance was thankful for that as he couldn’t think of a better friend to have than Hunk, that and Hunk was an AMAZING cook;

Pidge, was a child genius, but besides her brilliance the poor kid had so much pent up rage that they ended up exploding from time to time, and unfortunately she usually aimed her out bursts towards Lance, not to say that Lance didn’t deserve the beat downs he gets from all the teasing he deals out, he does, he knows he does, Pidge also lost her family when she was young so Lance couldn’t blame her for being a little upset now and again, but despite this the kid could hold her own in a fight, and Lance also considered Pidge to be one of this closest friends;

Finally, there was him, charming good-looking, lil’ol him, and that was it. 

They were like a family, a big, messed up, Zombie killing family and Lance couldn’t be happier to have them as one. Lance found himself smiling ridiculously to himself and felt his heart swelling with affection as he took another bite out of the bland flesh of the fruit in his hand. Slurping loudly as the fruit’s sticky juices traveled down his chin. He fumbled a bit in an attempt to try and stop the juices from dribbling down his neck. Which only left Lance with a sticky face and hands that he felt really wasn’t worth his trouble since the fruit he was eating wasn’t even that great to begin with. 

Lance gazed over the desolated city from his perch up on a rusted tin roof that belonged to a long since abandoned gas station. His rifle, whom he dubbed, Blue, was tucked snugly between his side and arm. From here Lance could see just about as far as the horizon would let him, a perfect spot for a look out to watch for danger, while his friends scavenged around for supplies below. 

His sharp eyes scanned his surrounding for any sign of a threat, he was so immersed in his task that when the sound of something crashing down below him nearly made Lance jump out of his skin from fright, hands instinctively grabbing for his rifle and almost dropping his fruit in the process, but was immediately brought some relief for his racing heart when Hunks voice rang out from somewhere in the store,

 

“My bad!"

“What are you doing!? We were supposed to be quiet! Do you want Them to know we are here!? Or anyone else for that matter!?” Pidge’s voice roared back.

 

“I’m sorry!” Hunk winced; Lance could almost see the sheepish grin planted on Hunks face. “I didn’t see the display.”

 

“How could you not see it? It’s almost as big as you are! Tell me, how do you even manage to knock over something that big and obvious by accident?” Pidge’s voice was growing higher and louder with every second. 

Lance winced at Hunks impending doom but quickly glanced back out over their surroundings, letting out a puff of air when there were no signs that anything had heard them. These guys are going to be the death of him.

“Alright, that’s enough, both of you. Now is defiantly not the time.” Lance smiled when he heard Shiro’s stern voice. Forever the voice of reason… Lance shook his head and let out a breathy laugh. Placing his rifle in his lap as he leaned back on his arms, legs draped over the edge of the roof.

He wished that things could always be this calm; he enjoyed their field trips out of the sects. In fact, he longed for them. He hated being cooped up behind the suffocating walls of the V.O.L.T.R.O.N sect. He never really liked being there, the atmosphere was always one of despair and dread and Lance just wasn’t feeling it. He loved his family, with all his heart, but he loved being out here more and knowing that they were safe an protected and that he was helping them gather supplies that the sect was short on. Also killing the odd zombie here and there made sure that their boarders were safe from that infectious virus’ grasp. He only wishes that he could do more. Lance wanted to be a part of the missions that Shiro was a part of, he wanted to fight back the virus to its roots, he wanted to know more of what happened, he-

Lance let out a shriek that he wouldn’t admit to later, when something grabbed a hold of his ankle. Ripping him from his thoughts, Lance was about to lash out in defense was brought to a halt when a shrill laugh echoed from below. 

“PIDGE! HOW COULD YOU?!” Lance hissed out, leaning over the edge of the roof to glare down at the little shit that now stood on the hood of the car that Lance himself had used when he climbed onto the roof. Pidge stared up at Lance with a shit eating grin plastered on her face, while Lance had a hand placed over his furiously beating heart, the other holding tightly onto the barrel of his rifle. “I could have SHOT you!” Lance gestures wildly with his arms towards his gun to try and bring his point across. 

“Please, you were too busy screaming, besides, not my fault.” She shrugged as if she had no remorse what so ever for nearly scaring the life out of Lance, “Shiro warned you about not hanging your legs over an edge, especially if you can’t see what’s beneath it.” Pidge pretended to bite at his leg, letting out a few snarls and growls to add some flare. 

Lance guessed that she was trying to imitate a zombie gnawing at his leg, “A perfect example of what could have happened if an actual zombie saw two perfectly dangling limbs before them.” Lance frowned as he started unimpressed down at the show before him, before letting out a startled yell as Pidge bit his leg for real. “Ouch- Pidge! What the fuck!” Lance tugged his leg away. 

Pidge laughed as she hopped back down off of the car’s now dented hood, as Lance tried to swipe at her, “C’mon, we’re finished.”

 

Huffing with annoyance Lance chucked the half eaten fruit over his shoulder with more force than was needed and hopped off of the roof, reveling in the rush of the air as he fell before landing next to Pidge in a crouched position. He glared up at her with a grimace before standing up, towering over Pidge, “You think that was funny you little shit?” Lance started, poking her shoulder with a firm finger. 

Raising an eyebrow Pidge smirked up at him, “Hilarious.” Before turning and strolling away to where Shiro and Hunk presumably were. Grumbling Lance followed, rounding a corner to find Shiro kneeling on the ground, organizing the supplies that they had managed to find into three separate piles. Hunk stood leaning against a wall with what seemed to be a chocolate bar in his mouth. 

“What no way, you found chocolate?!” Lance pushed Pidge aside and hurried to Hunk’s side, “And you’re not sharing?!” Lance exclaimed, still in shock that Hunk was able to find something at uncommon as chocolate in this day and age. Especially since everything went to shit after the virus and rioting broke out. Thank God Lance wasn’t alive to see that horror show. 

Hunk held out a hand towards Lance before tossing something towards him. Lance shot out a hand to grab at the flying object. “I got you fam.” Hunk smiled around a mouthful of creamy, nutty goodness, "Found ’em in the freezer in the back." 

Lance started excitedly down at his hands, trying to suppress a squeal of delight. For in his hands lay one of his all-time favorites, a Snickers bar. What a classic. Lance beamed up at Hunk, his earlier foul mood suddenly significantly brightened, “Thanks buddy!” Lance squealed, wrapping an arm around his friend’s neck. 

Shoving the chocolate bar into his backpack for what the others suspected was for later. Little did they know that Lance actually planned on sharing it with his family once he got back. He knew that they'd appreciate that, especially his younger siblings. Lance then glanced down to Shiro as he was just finishing the last of the organizing and rose back to his feet, "Well, it wasn't mush, but it's a start." Shiro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked beat. Lance couldn't blame him; after all, Shiro was always on high alert. That would tire anyone out, right?

Lance was about to suggest that they head back for the day, but Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head, as if he knew what Lance was about to offer, ”I’d like to hit one more store before we head back.” Lance gave him a concerned look, it was well passed noon and the sky would soon darken, but Lance knew to trust in Shiro’s judgement and agreed nonetheless, “Yeah, okay, if you say so.” Lance shrugged and Shiro smiled, Lance couldn’t help but smile back. Shiro glanced at the others, and he received eager nods. 

“Alright then it’s settled, let’s head out quickly. We’ve stayed here in this place long enough.” Shiro glanced around with wary eyes as if they were being watched, and Lance for a second believed that they were, before leaning over and picking up the bags that he organized the supplies into. He tossed Hunk and Pidge their bags before gathering on his own over his shoulders. 

“Come, we must hurry if we want to make it back to the sect before night fall,” Shiro started out towards the street that led away from the gas station, “otherwise the organization will wonder what has become of us.” 

“Yeah, and your girlfriend might end up sending out a rescue party just to come and find you.” Pidge teased, earning a warning look from Shiro as well as a very prominent blush dusting his cheeks. Lance tried to fight back his urge to tease but the blush proved to be too great for Lance’s restraint, “Ohhh, you have a point there Pidge! Allura will be so worried, wouldn’t she Hunk?” Lance grinned, elbowing Hunks arm before placing a hand gun over his chin and leaned forward towards Shiro. 

“Oh, oh! Do you think Shay would be worried if we didn’t make it back in time this evening?” Hunk fretted, seemingly oblivious to Shiro’s teasing, to Shiro’s delight, because in the next the moment he hurriedly change the subject, “Don’t worry Hunk, I’m sure if we hurry we’ll make it back in time before we cause anyone to worry too much.” Hunk seemed to be reassured. Shiro gave Lance and Pidge a triumphant look, before continuing his way down the street. 

Good job Hunk… Lance rolled his eyes and shared an unimpressed look with Pidge who just sighed before she too continued her way down the street before she stopped dead. Lance frowned, “Pidge..?” Lance was however brought to a stop when he saw Pidge's expression, one of pure spite, her shit eating grin was back in its rightful place and Lance suddenly felt very afraid. It wasn’t until she motioned towards Hunk that Lance caught on. 

 

Ah… Lance acquired his own grin.

 

“So Hunk,” Pidge started as she walked to Hunk’s right side, with Lance on his left. Lance couldn’t contain the huge grin on his face as he snaked an arm around Hunk's shoulders, “why were you so concerned about whether Shay would be worried if we,” Pidge cleared her throat, “I mean, you, didn’t return before dark?” Pidge side glance Lance, raising her brows, a signal for Lance to continue.

Lance complied happily. “Yeah, Hunk, what was that about? You like her or something?”  
“Wha-” Hunk started, turning his head towards Pidge and Lance. “Um… no? I just, didn’t want her to worry about me- uh- us.” Hunk stumbled over his words and Pidge and Lance knew they had achieved victory, judging by the dark blush rising to Hunk’s cheeks. 

 

“Awww!” Pidge cried, “You like her! You do don’t you? That’s adorable!” She squealed as she wrapped herself around Hunks legs. 

 

“Buddy! Why didn’t you tell me!?” Lance mocked a shocked, hurt expression, as if he had no idea that his friend was already crushing hard for Shay, oh no, he knew of course, he was just playing along. Lance laughed at his friend’s flustered expression, poking his cheek, he was enjoying this way too much, poor Hunk.

“You’re so red!”

“I-“ Hunk started, fingers tips touching in a nervous fashion.

Lance could go on and on with his teasing and with Pidge’s laughs erupting from below; Lance almost forgot about the harsh reality of the world that they lived in.

“Alright, alright, enough you two, leave Hunk alone. You’re making too much noise” Shiro placed a reassuring arm on Hunk shoulder. Shooing the others away, “We have more important things to be worried about now-“Shiro’s voice died in his throat when a sudden, all too familiar moan carried through the air.

Immediately Lance’s hands where on his gun, holding it up to his chest, suddenly alert. Shiro reached for the baton on his hip. Pidge grabbed her bat that was covered with nails at the end and Hunk pulled the machine gun from his back. 

Eye’s darting to where the moan was coming from. Lance rested his eyes on three dark figures further up the street. The appeared as black silhouettes, splitting images of human beings, but Lance knew better than to mistake them for that. 

 

These were no humans. 

 

These were the dead. 

 

These were Them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I actually had more written for this chapter, but I decided to leave it at that, and keep the whole "spooky" atmosphere that was going on! 
> 
> I have the next chapter written out already in advance! It's a lot longer than this one! 
> 
> So I hope you enjoyed ;-; 
> 
> Again with the smut, I'll have to see! There's still a lot of scenes that I want to write so if I can fit it in, I shall see ;')
> 
> I'm new here- what even are kudos? Like favorites? Can one even critic? Am I doing this right? Oh boy...
> 
> I don't know what I'm doing...


	2. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Voltron zombie AU. Where we follow the lives of a group of adventure hungry teens on their quest for survival and adventure, in a zombie ridden world or course. Outside of the protection of the V.O.L.T.R.O.N Organizations sect's walls, what will these teens get out of their "field trips"... simple satisfaction? Unspeakable horrors? Or will they find something else? Something more, that not one of them ever dreamed they'd find?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really know where to place this chapter tbh... So I decided to just make it its own. It's short yeah, but its almost like a linking chapter between the first one and the next so... 
> 
> Anyway, Thank you SO much for the support on the last chapter!  
> I didn't expect that mean hits! I would of been happy with 30... Seriously, thank you!
> 
> Things are going to get more action packed soon! So stay tuned!

The three figures stood out against the grey sky as dark silhouettes. Lance could feel his heart beating quickly in his chest as he drew his rifle in the direction of the figures, focusing on the one closest to his side of the street.

Lance was about to pull the trigger when Shiro pushed his gun down with a steady hand, “No guns.” Shiro spoke in a hushed tone, eyes never straying from their targets.

 

“But-“ Lance and Hunk spoke in surprised unison. 

 

“To loud, don’t want to draw more attention. Not when we are in the open like this.” Shiro glanced around for a moment before reaching out towards some broken rubble a few steps away, probably from the collapsed building to their right, Lance guessed, hands returning with two heavy looking metal poles.

“Here, use these.” Shiro passed one to him, then the other one to Hunk. Lance and Hunk share an uncertain glance before they return their attention back to Shiro, nodding. 

Lance noted that Shiro’s eyes have become more… troubled. Lance knew that expression well. Shiro only ever wore it when he was facing Them. The wrinkles that creased his brow, the tension in his jaw and the distance of his eyes told Lance that he was reliving some horrid moments of his past, undoubtedly when his team got slaughtered before his eyes. Lance shuddered; shaking himself to relieve some of the tension brewing inside of him, then returned his eyes back to the black figures, outlined by the sky. They were closer now and Lance could just make out their moans. 

 

Tightening his hands around the cool metal of the pole Lance tried to steady his breathing. “Shit, no matter where we go these things are everywhere. “ Pidge hissed under her breath.

 

Shiro held up a hand and motioned to Lance to take the left side and for Pidge and Hunk to take the right. Lance assumed that he would handle the middle. After a quick nod, in clarification that the others knew what to do, Shiro raised his hand up for a few moments, Lance held his breath. When Shiro closed his hand into a first, Lance shot forward, Pole raised. Lance could hear or rather feel the footsteps of his companions as they ran beside him as his blood roared in his ears. 

Adrenaline pumping, Lance’s longer legs drew him forward, ahead of the others by a good few steps. The figure of the zombie growing ever nearer as Lance steadily closed the distance between them. Just a few more strides and Lance would be face-to-face with the thing. Lance clenched his teeth when the zombie, who had a horrid looking gash out of its side, turned towards him and lashed out. Its eyes were glazed over with a white film and its tongue lolled out of it mouth like some sort of savage creature. 

Ducking around it, Lance avoided its snapping mouth as it lunged for him with practiced ease, and brought his pole up above his head with a quick jerky movement. The pathetic thing didn’t even have time to react before Lance let out a silent battle cry and slammed it down onto the zombie’s cranium. Lance felt a chilling satisfaction boil within him when he heard the sound of the zombies skull crack open and watched with mild amusement when the zombie collapsed to the ground in a heap of blood and maggots. 

The sudden rush of pleasure that Lance experience was washed away and replaced with disgust when he noticed how young the zombie looked. At first glance, Lance saw nothing but a mindless, flesh-eating monster, a zombie. But now looking down at the bloodied mess, it seemed a lot more… human now, a heavily mutilated, disfigured human. A young man, no, a boy, no older than Lance himself. A chill traveled up Lance’s spine when he pictured the boy that this thing had once been. The image of a young boy, with a toothy grin plastered to his face filled Lance’s mind.

 

Lance felt sick. He always did after he killed one of Them. 

 

He always told himself that they were no longer human, that they no longer felt feelings or emotions, or anything. But every single time, he would feel guilt-ridden for killing them, for feeling pleasure when their bodies fell lifeless before him, for Lance knew that they were once human, alive, just like him, just like Pidge and the others. Just like his family.  
And he realizes with guilt that the boy probably also had a family once to. Lance could never get over these feelings, these thoughts, because whenever he looked down at the crippled mess, that he made, he would always, always, see someone he cherished. Someone that he loved, their clothes matted, skin drained of any and all color, eyes empty and lifeless, and their bodies littered with irreparable wounds. 

 

Dead.

 

God, why is he always like this.

One more glace at the dead corps was all it took, and Lance found himself hunched over, gasping and gagging at the sight before him, his stomach expelling his earlier fruit and breakfast contents in a repulsive liquidized concoction of grossness. Lance hated throwing up, he hated the way it contorted his stomach, he hated the way it made his throat burn, and the way that once he started, he couldn’t stop. Lance felt tears begin to rim his eyes and he tried to calm himself down. 

 

He needed to pull himself together. 

 

A few more spasms rocked through Lance before a soothing hand found its way to his back. Its warmth seemed to ease the sick feeling that swam in Lance’s stomach and he glanced up after a few moments with glassy eyes to find Shiro smiling gently down at him. This man was too pure for this world.

“Good job, Lance. You did really well.” Shiro said in a soft soothing voice. Lance didn’t feel like he did well, in fact, he felt awful. Wiping his mouth for the second time that day Lance got up. Feeling slightly dizzy having just thrown up. Lance politely pushed away any of Shiro’s advances to help. Instead Lance placed his own hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?” Shiro’s voice was soft, genuine concern filled his words.

“Yes, dad, I’m fine.” Lance snickered as Shiro shoved his arm playfully. “Thanks.” Lance added after a moment, feeling slightly self-conscious about the bad taste in his mouth. 

“Sure thing.” Shiro gave Lance a fond smile. Which Lance, again, returned with just as much fondness. 

Sudden bickering drew Lance’s fixated gaze away from Shiro’s smile and he trailed his gaze over to where Pidge and Hunk were. A frustrated Pidge was in the process of busy helping a distressed Hunk remove his wedged pole from their assigned zombie’s head. The two were having a lot more trouble with the task than they would have liked to admit. Lance couldn’t help but laugh as Hunk lost his footing and fell back onto his ass, ultimately dragging a flailing Pidge down with him. Next to him Shiro too was having difficulty trying to muffle his own laughs with his hand, shaking his head. 

Lance was glad to see that his friends didn’t have too much difficulty in taking down their own assigned targets. He was relieved for that and thankful. The last thing he wanted was to have one of his own be turned into one of those monsters.

Lance felt the cold shiver return; he wanted to get out of here, and now. As much as he hated the sects, he couldn’t deny how much safer they were behind those walls than out here.

Lance watched as Shiro made his way over to where Pidge and Hunk were sprawled on the floor, picking his way over the bloody heap of the zombie Shiro himself had slayed, and assisted with dislodging Hunk’s temporary weapon from the zombies head with a swift tug. “Come on. Let’s go,” Shiro handed the pole back to Hunk, and patted his shoulder before ruffling Pidge’s hair. ”-and guys,” Shiro gave them a warning glare, “this time let’s do things, quietly. Okay?” 

“Okay.” Lance, Pidge and Hunk all chimed at the same time, mock saluting as Shiro walked past. Lance snickered when Shiro just shook his head, but he seemed satisfied enough. 

But before any of them could even take more than a few step, a thunderous crack erupted through the air like a roll of thunder. Its sound echoed against the empty buildings on either side of the street so loudly that Lance placed two hands over his ears, “What in the hell was that?!” Lance cried out in surprise, wincing as the vibrations traveled through his eardrums.

 

“A gun shot?” Hunk answered almost as soon as the words left Lance’s mouth. He sounded just as confused and surprised as Lance did.

 

“No.” Came Pidge’s voice after the echoes died down, “A flare!” She exclaimed, pointing up towards the sky. 

 

Lance and the others followed Pidge’s finger in the direction ahead of them, and sure enough it was a flare. The smoke trail painted a long bright red line across the sky, a stark contrast against the grey clouds. 

 

Which meant one thing…

 

“Someone’s in trouble!” Shiro declared, “Come on!” He took off abruptly down a side street, in the general direction that the flare was fired, giving the others little choice but to stumble after him.

“Wa-wait! Shiro! This could be a-” Lance’s stuttered as he tripped over his feet, “a trap!” Lance called, correcting himself and catching up to Shiro in a few easy bounds.  
“We don’t know that-“ Shiro started, eyes fixed ahead of him.

“Yeah, but what if it is?” Lance urged, “What if it’s Galra?” Lance stared intently into the side of Shiro’s face. Pidge and Hunk were now also staring intently at Shiro, a few strides behind them.

Shiro side glanced at Lance, then back at Hunk and Pidge, before looking ahead again, a determined expression clouding his face, “Then we stay alert.” He held his baton up, “and cross that bridge when we get there. If it is the Galra, then we take care of them.” Shiro finished and Lance knew the conversation was finished. Shiro had a tendency for putting others safety before his own.

Lance was about to protest again but he realized that there really was no point. When Shiro got like this there was little that anyone could say or do to try and change his mind. Lance just smiled and nodded his head, “Whatever you say buddy.” Lance knew to not question Shiro’s judgement. Shiro tended to be right for the majority of the time. 

 

And Lance, well, Lance trusted him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I REALLY like this chapter! 
> 
> Lance is actually kind of a baddass! Wow... and Shiro is just TOO pure!! Aaaa-
> 
> And who fired that flare?! FIND OUT NEXT TIME!
> 
> Hope you like this chapter! The next one will be up soon! 
> 
> (Keith's POV omg)


	3. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Voltron zombie AU. Where we follow the lives of a group of adventure hungry teens on their quest for survival and adventure, in a zombie ridden world or course. Outside of the protection of the V.O.L.T.R.O.N Organizations sect's walls, what will these teens get out of their "field trips"... simple satisfaction? Unspeakable horrors? Or will they find something else? Something more, that not one of them ever dreamed they'd find?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith's POV! Yay! Lets see what he's getting up to shall we~`
> 
> Thank you for all the support for the last few chapters! 
> 
> I promise this one is a lot more action packed!

The morning began like any other, dull and uneventful. 

All Keith's mornings seemed to start out this way, ever since he worked out this routine, which he stuck to like glue. This however meant that there was no room for goofing off or relaxing. Not if Keith wanted to keep his head on his shoulders. Not when there was so much room for things to go wrong. 

Things always seemed to go wrong for him, ever since he was small. With the death of his parents at a young age and his sect being overrun with the virus, people tended to avoid him for the most part especially since Keith had been the only survivor out of his entire sect. No one really seemed to want to be around him, it was like they thought him to be a bad omen of some sorts, cursed with bad luck if you will. They always tended to blame Keith for all the mishaps that occurred after that, and it was for this reason that Keith lived alone. 

He preferred it over living with others. There was no one but himself to blame if things did end up going wrong. Not to say that everything in Keith’s life when wrong (Especially now since Keith worked out a strict routine for himself to follow) but one could never be too careful, especially when you're living in a zombie infested world. 

By now he had been following the same routine for, what was it, a year? Two years now? To Keith, it somehow felt much longer than that. Keith didn't really bother with telling time anymore. As long as he could distinguish between day and night that was good enough for him. Time had just become another insignificant factor in his everyday life cycle. All the days seemed to blur together into one, big, jumbled mess of repetitive activities and tasks and Keith usually had a hard time differentiating one day from another, especially since his out dated Power Rangers calendar mysteriously vanished one day, when Keith was busy reorganizing his shit.

As boring and trivial Keith’s life currently was and had been for the past year and a half as a result of following his stupid routine, it kept Keith alive. He owed thanks to it for at least that much. 

Not that he would go so far as to call his way of living, actual living, more like existing if anything, but, eh, he was still alive was he not?

His routine also got him through some pretty tough situations, like when food and supplies were running low or when Keith was able to avoid coming into contact with Them or the Galra (who were a group or cult of some kind) for that matter.

Keith had had a few close calls in his past due to his inexperience when he came to dealing with Them or the Galra. Close calls that left deep scars in Keith's skin, physically, as well as mentally. When he was still living in his sect, he'd gotten a large scar that stretched from his lower abdomen all the way to his ribs when falling from some scaffolding, after losing his footing in an effort to try and escape the snapping jaws of a zombie, which had somehow managed to sneak up behind Keith when he wasn't paying attention. A sharp rod of metal had caught him on his way down and if it wasn't for an old friend, he might not have survived long enough to see this day. He got another one on his arm, thanks to a bullet wound that was given to him as a parting gift when Keith was found stealing supplies out of a Galra base a few months prior. He had managed to get away in the end, with nothing more than a bruised ego, but hey, he survived. 

The scars by now were all healed. Some fresher than others but all a constant reminder of how easily and quickly things could go wrong if he wasn't properly prepared. And a lesson that Keith had to learn the hard way was that he couldn't just run blindly into a situation and expect things to weigh out in his favor. Keith evidently accepted this with mild frustration, and for that reason he forced himself to follow the steps of his routine as if his life depended on it. 

For the most part, it did. 

The schedule of his day-to-day routine was as follows; wake up, do a perimeter check, eat something, do another perimeter check, make sure that his shelter, which he’d been living in for the last few months, was in prime condition (well as prime conditioned as a rickety old shack house could be), another perimeter check, then finally, organize his supplies. 

If he was short on something Keith would have to make a slight modification to his routine, which he hated doing, so to avoid doing that, Keith brought mathematics into the equation. Yippy…

He would measure the exact amount of everything he had and make rough estimates on when about he would have to make a few trips into town to try and scavenge for whatever he needed. Keith would then need to update his routine so that he would have enough time in order to go and collect whatever it was that he was short on, without disrupting his routine too much in the process.

Be it food, water, clothing or even ammo, Keith would need to travel out of the safety of his home in order to get it. This is what brought Keith back to his present situation, in his search for some batteries to power his flashlight (and a few other appliances that Keith owned that needed some recharging.) 

Keith found himself wondering in a new part of town that he wasn’t familiar with, a place he had yet to bleed dry. Keith’s search had led him in to an abandoned building (just like all the others) that he presumed to be an old apartment building. He'd had to take a few flight of stairs to get to where he was now, as the lift, of course, was out of order. 

He'd already pillaged the lowers floors, but had come up empty handed. Keith was growing more and more irritated with ever floor he left with nothing to show for. Even through all his effort he’d put into finding the batteries, he still had nothing but air in his pockets.  
There was only one floor left and Keith was running low on patients, as well as day light. If he couldn't find what he was looking for on this floor, then he'd have to return home empty handed, again, and Keith could not go another night without his flashlight. He refused to. Besides, Keith wasn't ready to give up just yet. 

Once he reached the top floor he felt slightly out of breath. Shit, Keith needed to somehow squeeze some cardio time into his schedule. It wouldn't help much if he was being chased down by a group of zombies and he getting a stitch in the process. 

Keith puffed out a breathy sigh before he pressed himself against a wall, his back to it, before he popped his head around the door frame, that lead into the first room. Keith traced his fingers softly against the hilt of his katana. All clear, good. Keith then slid easily into the cluttered room, glancing around hastily; trying to figure out where would be a good place to begin his search, before he decided to work his way from one end to the other.

“Okay, might as well get started.” Keith sighed and got to work.

Keith had been rummaging aimlessly through some old boxes that he found in the back room for the past hour or so, before turning his attention to some larger boxes in the closet, when he stumbled across some old comic books and Christmas decorations, but still no batteries. Grunting, Keith stood up on his tippy toes, reaching for the last remaining box at the very back of the closet. In his struggle with reaching for the box, Keith completely forgot about his surroundings and a sudden growl caught him off guard. 

Stumbling in surprise Keith lost his footing and fell, in his attempt to grab onto the shelf for some support; it collapsed under his weight and crumbled to the ground along with Keith, box and all. Coughing as a thick cloud of dust settled over him Keith snapped his eyes to the entrance to the closet. 

What the fuck was that?

Keith could hear a few scuffling sounds just outside the closet door, accompanied by some gruff grunts. And Keith wondered stupidly for a second what it could possibly be. As if it could be anything but what it most definitely was. Keith still held the slightest bit of hope that he was wrong and that it was just his imagination, or something. What an idiotic thing to hope for.  
Please don't be what I think it is. Please don't be what I think it is. Please- Keith mentally prayed himself to believe that it wasn’t what he thought it was.

A sudden deformed face appeared in the door way and all Keith's fears were brought to life. Yes, it was exactly what Keith didn't want it to be; a fucking zombie, an ugly one at that. Well uglier than most that Keith had faced in the past, so much so that Keith felt slightly more afraid of this one than he’d really liked to have been.

Its face was littered with gashes, the skin of its cheek drooped loosely, like a piece of cloth, and one if its eyes dangled out of its socket like a paddle ball, its lips had been warn away to show bloody rotten teeth in their place and the stench of the thing made Keith scrunch up his nose in disgust. 

For a few moments as if waiting for the dust to settle, Keith sat there, staring wide eyed at the zombie before him, which crouched only a few feet away. Keith knew from experience that these things had terrible eyesight. The things were practically blind. But to make up for this their hearing was on a whole other level. It had probably heard Keith rummaging through the boxes and decided to come and investigate.

God why hadn't he done a full perimeter check? Stupid... Stupid… Stupid-

The scary thing was, Keith realized, was that he had been up here for about an hour, at least and had not noticed the damn things presence at all. Did zombies even have a presence? Was that even a thing? Keith hadn’t the slightest, and quite frankly, he didn’t give two shits. The fact that Keith didn't even know where the thing had come from caused an uneasy feeling to settle in his gut. 

Had it been on the same floor as him this whole time, just in another room perhaps, or had it followed him up the stairs? God, Keith did not want to know the answers to those questions.  
Geez, when would he get a clue that the world that he lived in was a lot more hostile that he believed it to be? 

Keith was brought out of his bewilderment when the zombie tilted its head and made a few clicking noises in his general direction. Keith moved his hand to his hip. Shit, Keith winced when he realized that he had left his katana by the apartment’s entrance, why did he do that… and in that exact moment he wished he hadn't because the zombies head snapped towards him before it lurched forward, teeth bared. 

Crying out Keith grabbed a hold of the lopsided box that he had tried to get at earlier, from between his legs and with some exertion swung it at the zombie. The zombie having no control over its lunge dived straight into the box, face first. The box, crappy looking as it was, disintegrated on impact, spraying its contented all over the floor. The zombie smashed a few of its teeth when it face kissed the box and crumpled to the ground in a heap, allowing for just enough space for Keith the squeeze past. 

Shutting the door behind him, Keith dashed across the apartment to the front door, while the zombie thrashed about in the closet, until he saw something shiny in the corner of his eye when he hurried past. Back tracking Keith saw a packet of batteries lying wrinkled on the floor. No doubt from the box that Keith threw at the zombie earlier. Its innards lay all but scattered over the carpet at this point.

Hearing the zombie get to its feet and start to bang against the door of the closet, Keith hurried to collect his prize, stumbling as he scooped up the batteries in a single swipe of his hand, shoving them into his pocket, before slipping through the front door, picking up his katana on his way out. 

"Note to self, Keith, always do a perimeter check, twice! And for the love of god, Keith, always keep your fucking katana on you!" Keith hissed to himself as he dashed down the stairs, skipping three steps at a time, sometimes the whole flight at once in his frantic decent. A sudden crashing sound and an extra pair of clumsy footsteps echoing against the tiled walls of the stairwell told Keith that the zombie had managed to break out of its closet prison and was now chasing after him down the stairs. Its moans carried loudly through the air.

Okay, so it was a little pissed off. Keith would be to if he had a box thrown in his face before being shut in a small dark room, it was understandable. Keith would have probably turned and took care of the zombie quick and easily if it had not been for the fact that two more had joined in on the chase. Their growls and moans merged together that drowned out Keith's own footsteps. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Keith cursed, where in the hell had they even come from!? Was Keith seriously stupid enough to have not noticed three fucking flesh eating motherfucking zombies up there with him? 

Holy shit. 

Was he an idiot!? 

Keith in his panic stumbled over some suitcases that lay in the middles of the stairs. He landed awkwardly amongst some of the luggage as a result. "Damnit!" Keith breathed, pushing himself to his feet again before continuing his way down the stairwell, legs going into over drive. The moans had grown louder and Keith guessed that his fall had given the zombies enough time to gain some ground on him. Shit, he needed to get out of here now and get some of the distance between them back. 

An abrupt ear splitting screech pierced the air behind him that caught Keith off guard and gasped when he glanced back over his shoulder in time to see one of the zombies, a woman, crawling on all fours, and lunge towards him. Keith let out a surprised yelp when it grasped a hold of this ankle causing him to trip and tumble forward, down the remaining flight of stairs, zombie in tow. His heart was beating frantically and his ears were drowned out with the sound of growling and snarling as he and the zombie grappled together as they toppled down the stairs. 

Keith was flailing desperately to keep the zombies mouth away and the zombie was snapping out at him with every chance it got. "Get off of me you stupid bitch!" Keith hissed as he kicked out, landing a square kick to the zombie abdomen, which sent it flying back off of him sharply. It landed with a hard thud against the sharp edges of the stairs, it let out a pitiful groan before it's body went limp, draped over the steps like a blanket as blood started to ooze out from beneath it head. 

Whatever little relief that Keith felt when he managed to get free was ripped away from him by a sheering spike of pain in his leg when he landed flat on his back at the bottom of the stairwell. The air was knocked forcibly from his lungs, as his head slammed into solid concrete a moment later with enough force that it sent a couple echoes up the walls. 

Keith lay there for a moment, stunned and confused. The pain in his leg was what made Keith eventually glance down. Keith felt his stomach clenching uncomfortably at the sight. Somehow, when Keith landed he had managed to end up with a thick metal rod lodged into his thigh. Fuck. Keith winced when he tried to move, unable to remove the rod from its place. Keith was however still able to move his leg, which meant that he wasn't stuck. 

Keith contemplated just lying there. To except his fate, but as stubborn as he was he knew that he couldn't do that. Keith's adrenaline kicked back in when the sound of moans filled his ears. In a flash he was on his feet again, grimacing as pain rocketed through his leg and up his spine, pushing his way from the stairwell and out the door, into a dark alleyway, letting the heavy doors pull closed behind him. 

Once out, in his blind urgency Keith slammed his side into the wall parallel to the door that Keith had just exited from. His body protesting painfully as Keith picked himself off the wall. Keith groaned and bite his lip, as he limped down the alley, he needed to keep going, at least until he was out of danger.

Keith rounded a corner further up the path, leaning heavily on the wall beside him, just as he heard the moans erupt into the open air. Keith before he knew it was running, hard, as fast as his legs would carry him in his current state through the maze of alleyways. Clearing fences as well as car hoods in his attempt to get away, pain in his leg momentarily forgotten. 

Unfortunately for Keith in his attempts to get away he left a thick trail of blood trailing behind him which just drew even more unwanted attention to himself. Keith felt his heart beat escalate when another zombie rounded a corner ahead of him. Keith thinking fast, ducked into another smaller alleyway to his right. His breath came out in short labored huffs as he stumbled to a halt when to his utter dismay, when he found himself standing before a dead end. The wall loomed over him like a wave about to crash. 

Shaking his heads in disbelief Keith took a few steps back, about to retrace his steps, to try and backtrack and find a different route. But as Keith's was about to make his way back he was brought to a stop, the blood in his veins running cold. The opening to the alleyway that Keith had entered in through was now blocked by a menacing shadow. 

Keith grabbed for his katana by his hip, unsheathing it with a smooth fluid movement, holding it in front of him, shoulders back, eyes forward. Keith about to charge forward felt his wounded leg give way beneath him and he collapsed to the ground in a bloodied bundle. Keith dug his katana into the dirt with his hands, using it as a sort of support to try and drag himself back to his feet. He was unsuccessful in this and just seemed to cause himself more pain, so he sank back to the ground with a hiss. 

Keith pushed himself back with his good leg until his back was flush against the wall that trapped him. It’s shadow draping itself over him spitefully. Keith watched with narrowed eyes as the zombie drew closer. Its teeth bared in a vicious snarl. Its eyes glazed white and unseeing. Keith realized with startled panic that these would be the last eyes he ever sees. Keith's breath came out in strained puffs as he tried to press himself closer to the wall behind him, his fingernails trailing and digging desperately into the hard earth beneath him. 

Keith started when his fingertips brushed against something cold and leathery, snapping his eyes to his side he found a hunched over man. He was draped in a warn police uniform. No longer in the world of the living Keith came to realize after a quick glance over, and the something cold that Keith's fingers had touched were what seemed to be a, hand? 

A cold… dead… bony hand. Huh.

Keith recoiled instinctively; bring his hand back to his chest, as a cold shiver ran down his spine. He'd be joining him soon, Keith though with a bitter smile, before he noticed something red and shiny sticking out from underneath the man's belt. Keith blinked down at the object for a moment with wide eyes.

Was that a... a gun? 

Keith lunged for it, prying it violently from the man's belt along with a three, really large bullets. Holding it shakily in his hands Keith distinguished with a relieved sigh that it was in fact a gun but on closer inspection, Keith's relief turned into one of malaise. No, this wasn't a gun, it was a flare gun. The color should have made it obvious as well as the giant ass bullets. 

The irony of the situation was almost painful. Banging his head back against the wall behind him a few times Keith realized that he really had no other options. He knew that if he wanted any chance of surviving this, he would have to take a chance that the flair would be seen by someone who was first of all, close, friendly and willing to sacrifice their own lives to save a stranger, and oh, not Galra! 

Who was Keith kidding; he had about as much of a chance of getting out of this alive as a zombie had playing a game of charades.

Which was none by the way. Why would anyone even want to play a game of charades with a zombie? Oh dear, Keith was rambling. Probably the blood loss, duh.  
But hey, it couldn't hurt to at least give it a try. Heaving a sigh, Keith loaded the first round successfully into the gun with only some minor difficulty, before raising it up above his head. Keith wasn’t really accustomed to guns and felt uneasy with it in his hands. Does he even know how to do this? Would it even work? He'd laugh if it wouldn’t, he genuinely would. Holding his breath, well, here goes nothing, Keith pulled the trigger. 

Not only was Keith surprised that the flare actually fired, he was even more surprised by how fucking loud the damn thing was and with the added shock waves echoing against the walls of the alleyway, Keith almost thought that he was on a battlefield. Holy shit, Keith nearly had a heart attack. He was not expecting that amount of noise to come out of a small ass gun like that. Ears ringing, Keith leaned his head back and watched with blurry vision as the red flare soared into the sky. 

Please. Keith almost pleaded. It was pathetic of him to have to be saved by others. If it even came down to that. Would anyone whoever sees the flair even come to his rescue? He hoped. He wasn't ready to die just yet. He did want to turn. Keith gripped his katana, trying to draw some strength from it, feeling a sudden helplessness. He just needed to be patient. Yeah, Keith could do that, he had time-

A low moan carried through the air again. Scratch that, Keith didn’t have time. Attention snapping back down to the zombie, its gaze was fixed up at the sky, watching the flare. Keith gazed back down at the flare gun in his hand, and noted that the flare gun still had two more rounds left. An idea popped into Keith’s mind. It was stupid, he knew that, but at this point he was desperate. 

Keith gritted his teeth; at least he knew one thing. That he wouldn't go down without a fight. Fuck that. Fuck being patient, who cares if help was coming or not, if it was his time to go he'd go fighting. He'd go down kicking and screaming if he had to, until he couldn’t fight any longer. For if Keith knew anything about himself, anything at all, it would be that he wasn't a quitter.  
When the zombie still seemed to be entranced by the flare Keith raised the flare gun up and aimed it at the zombie. "Like it so much? How about up close?" Keith jeered, firing the flare right at the zombie. Keith managed to hit it in the shoulder. The impact knocking it off of its feet, the flare itself singing into its flesh, but instead of it staying down, like a good zombie, it staggered back to its feet, giving Keith an angry groan. 

Keith fired the last round as the zombie stumbled towards him; it missed, zooming just inches past its head. Keith thought he heard a surprised yell from somewhere beyond the alley but he was too distracted with the current zombie charging towards him to give the yell any second thoughts. Keith cursed and threw the remaining gun at the zombie, which only seemed to make it angrier as it was now thundering down the alleyway towards Keith. 

Keith's muscles tensed, drawing his sword again. "Bring it." Keith let out a strangled defiant yelp as the zombie slammed into him. Pushing him further against the wall than he already was. Keith managed to dig his katana into the zombie side, but it didn't seem to make much of a difference as the zombie still thrashed about. Keith rolled to the side as the zombie snapped at his face, bring it with him. Keith grunted when the zombie ended up in top of him in the scuffle. One of the zombies knees pressed heavily on his chest, drew a long spluttering breath from Keith as he gasped for breath, a firm hand pressed against the zombies cheek, succeeding in keeping its mouth at bay but failing at fully pushing it off of him. Keith felt dizzy at the lack of oxygen, and his leg started to hurt again.

Was this really the end? This sucked. When Keith had first woken up this morning he had not seen his day ending up like this. 

And all for what? Fucking batteries!? 

Shit, Keith felt his arms begin to tire from the strain of keeping the zombies mouth as far away from him as possible, maybe being a zombie wouldn't be so bad? Keith weighed his options, he seriously considered giving up at this point, all fight he had in him earlier had been drained away, leaving him exhausted. 

The day had been long and Keith didn't think that his heart could handle any more surprises at this point, Keith felt his vision begin to darken around the edges and he could barely feel his limbs anymore. His leg by now had gone dead, his arms not too far behind. Keith’s eyes started to drift close as the zombie’s face started to close in, its teeth opening and closing as it strained its neck towards Keith. 

Keith was done.

But an unexpected voice sounding from the entrance to the alleyway broke through the haze that Keith was drifting into and Keith felt a sudden burst of energy, his eyes could barely stay open at this point but the voice gave him enough willpower to keep the zombie at bay for just a smidgen longer.

Keith felt a strange feeling of warmth settle over him; he realized that this something he had not felt in a long time. Something that Keith never thought he’d ever experience again.

Hope.

"Guys, quickly! Over here! I found him!" 

The voice echoed through Keith’s mind as he willed himself just a few more moments of strength, before everything around him faded to black, the last thing Keith sees is the zombie’s face rip away from his to look in the direction that the voice had come from. The only things that Keith could make out were a few muffled voices and a soft boom of a gun being fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo~ What a train ride.
> 
> Let me know what you think! ;u;
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the read! 
> 
> Sorry if their are a few errors, I am most defiantly not a computer and I am basically married to auto correct! 
> 
> UNTIL NEXT TIME!


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